


Angel of Abolition

by FudoTwin17



Series: Rattle the Chains [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abolistionist!Everybody I like, Abolitionist!John, Abolitionist!Mycroft, Abolitionist!Sherlock, Alcohol Abuse, Alternate Universe, Anderson finally is faithful to his wife, Child Abuse, Civics, Death, Depression, Drug Abuse, Economics, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Good guy!Irene Adler, Good guy!Moriarty, Good guy!Sebastian Moran, Harry has a crush on Donovan, Harry tries to be brave, I don't know, I kinda ship John with everybody, Irene ships Johnlock, M/M, Mrs. Hudson is amazing, Mrs. Hudson ships Johnlock, PTSD, Politics, Rape, Revolution, Sherinford is epic, Sherlock vs John, Terrorism, Torture, War, What Was I Thinking?, abolitionists, dubcon, enjoy, fem!john watson, jail time, slave AU, terrorist!John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1612505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FudoTwin17/pseuds/FudoTwin17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where slavery is normal and accepted, John Watson leads the ARM publicly to remove slavery. Of course, Sherlock never thought too much about slavery until he met the Captain. Now that Mycroft has commissioned him to bring in the revolutionary leader and figure out what she's up to, he has to confront a lot more than politics. </p><p>But Mycroft's agenda may not be what it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel of Abolition

 

“Come on, boys.” John whispered, causing a sobering effect among her men. She cocked her gun, the cool British L106A1 fitting perfectly into her hand. “It's show time.”

Calm eyes locked on her, and she looked around them with a critical eye. Her lips pursed, thinking through her options. This being one of their more dangerous missions (but not the most-not by a long shot), she had to be very cautious. Just one slip up could end up with her and her men dead, and the Cause (because, yes, that did need a capital letter) would take a major blow.

But none of that was good to be thinking about. She needed to focus on the mission.

“Aaron and Jack, I need you two on clean-up. Get the slaves out and destroy any and all documents you find. I don't care if we have a copy or not-destroy them. We don't need it or want it.” As the two men nodded, her deep blues flitted over to the other two men. “Bill and Dugan, with me. We're going to ruffle up some dignitaries.” Bill gave her a grin that clearly read how glad he was to be at her side.

To be honest, she still felt anxiety when he left her sight. Apparently, it wasn't one-sided.

“On clean-up again?” Complained Jack, a joking pout on his face. “Why don't we ever get the fun stuff?”

John allowed herself to smile, a tilting lilt that didn't do anything more than convey her slight amusement and that she was joking. “But, Landon, you're so good at the boring stuff. In fact, I was thinking about leaving you on permanently as our janitor.”

Her men snorted in muted and muffled laughter, not having expected her joke considering what they were about to do.

Jack sent them all a glare. “That's not funny.”

  
“You're right, mate.” Dugan replied, grinning. “It's bloody brill.”

John smiled lightly and a little sadly, glancing down at her watch. They had roughly thirty minutes to get in, do as much damage as possible, and get out. She huffed lightly, thinking about the time they would have to take to get through the security. This was why they needed one more person.

She sighed heavily. This was why they needed Erin.

But Erin was dead, and it was _their_ fault. It was up to John, her men, and ARM to get pay-back.

She looked up at them, her seriousness bringing out her men's seriousness as well. “We don't have any back-up this time. It's only going to be us five. If anything goes amiss, you'd better report immediately.” She tapped the comm. in her ear pointedly. “I don't care if it's because you tripped down the stairs or if the alarms start blaring, I better bloody well know. Each of you know what to do, and you're good at it. So let's go in there and do it. The time for freedom is now.”

A series of nods and “Yes, Captain!”s went up, and John found herself on her feet, looking at Jack and Aaron's retreating forms. “Toss me a packet, yeah?”

Dugan grinned and tossed her one. “Too bad you're the one doing it. Shame to let such a pretty girl get covered by all that gunk.”

John rolled her eyes. “Yes. I bet the guards are going to be so concerned about how much less pretty I am when I put 'em on the ground.”

Dugan shrugged. “Eh, you never know. If they're men, they might only be concerned about your pretty blond locks and those big blues of yours. After all, men will be men.” He gave her a wink at the end, obviously perfectly comfortable with what they were about to do.

John's eyes went to Bill, and he smiled at her in a way that said _even with that gunk on your face, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on._ John's breath caught, and she turned away to put the fake blood on without her heart trying to beat out of her throat.

“Show time.” She murmured when she was ready.

* * *

Honestly, John was surprised how easy it was. They knocked out the security guards too easily after they put down their guns to avoid harm to the hostage (it was amazing how no guard ever recognized her-by now at least one of them should have realized that she wasn't just some hostage or at least recognized that her clothes were less than normal), the security system was entirely manned by the desk and, thus, was too easy to take out entirely in one go, there was a map on the desk that led them to all the nooks and crannies anyone might hide in as well as where they needed to go, and there was almost no one wandering the halls to come into contact with the three gun-toting terrorists.

John might say it was too easy if she couldn't feel the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

Of course, she didn't realize the challenge that she was about to set up. Maybe that was a good thing.

“Ready?” Bill asked, poised to kick down the door. An electric jolt went through her body as she clutched her gun tighter. She just nodded when the door was kicked in. She ducked in first, taking in the room with ease.

Her gun rose, and she shot twice into the nicely tiled ceiling. Dead silence rang around the room as her boys pointed their guns at the officials. It was amazing how quiet Her Majesty's dogs could be when their lives depended on it. John smiled at them, slipping into her role easily.

This was who she was.

“Hello.” She greeted, not leveling the gun at them. After all, she had her boys covering her, and she could easily shoot any of them before they said a word-the best part, of course, being that both she and they knew it. “My name is-”

“We know who you are.” Snapped a pale, slim man with red curls and a youthful face. He wasn't just young, though. No, John could tell that he was inexperienced. He hadn't seen half of what she or any of her other men had. He probably didn't know what his slaves went through either. “You're John Watson, the face of the terrorist organization ARC.”

Well, points for getting her name right, even if he got the terrorist organization name wrong. She smiled as gently as she could at him.

“Right. And as such, I come with orders and news from ARC.” She began, but she was interrupted once again by the redhead.

“We don't listen to demands from terrorists.” He hissed, his eyes flashing righteously. “We won't allow you to bully us into throwing away the values of this country or our people's security! We won't let you steal our people's rights!”

Despite noting the way Dugan trained his gun at the outspoken boy playing a man, John found she liked this one. He was misguided-as so many were-but she liked him. He would make a good asset one day. “Oh, trust me, I'm not the one stealing the rights of the people.” She sighed slightly, licking some of the fake blood from her lips. “I mean, really? It's your government that has an economy completely based on the trade and usage of _people_ as _property_.” The redhead hesitated, and John smiled. Yes, one day he would definitely be great. Her people just had to get to him first.

“They like it.” His argument was weak, but John understood. After all, it was what they taught at school, and slaves weren't allowed to go to school or make contact with the children at them. “In trade for their service, we give them shelter, food, a job-”

“You get paid for jobs.” Snapped Dugan, eyes harsh. John smiled gently at him-a mother's smile-because she of all people knew that Dugan had the right to make such an argument. “And not just in scars and temporary homes and lack of humane treatment.”

The redhead paled before gritting his teeth, desperate to be right. John rolled her eyes. _We're wasting time._ “As much as we'd love to debate your lack of humanity and possibly which of you are psychopaths-quite a few, by the way-we are here for a reason. Which of you are in favor of the Collar Assessment Bill? I need to know which of you voted yes for it.”

Not one of the men rose their hand.

John let her smile fall into a cold mask. “Don't make me ask again.”

John heard Bill turn off the safety on his gun.

So did the legislators.

Her eyes flickered to the young redhead. She didn't want to have to use anything too violent during this specific mission. After all, she wanted to come off as the good guy (they were the good guys, after all) - and they needed more people in government. That was, after all, the point of their mission. Soon, he would come to their side.

It was just a matter of whether or not it'd be in time.

“Fine, fine. I'll just count to three. And if those that did not vote in favor are not standing by time I finish, I will put a bullet in each legislator that did.” Disbelief seemed to ring around the room for a moment before she put her hand to her comm. “Eric, you have the list, yeah? Good.” Fear and adrenaline spiked in the room, and she smiled her easy smile. They wouldn't call her bluff, especially not when their actions could injure or kill their colleagues. “One.”

One legislator stood.

“Two.”

The sound of scraping chairs was heard.

“Three.”

Her redheaded, soon-to-be-recruited boy stood.

John smiled. “Good. We thank all five of you, and ARC, as you know it, always repays those that help it. Go. You're allowed to leave.” They all paused, uncomfortable. John smiled. Finally, some politicians of good valor. “I swear to you that your colleagues will not be killed unless in self-defense.”

Before any of the men could argue, Bill ushered them out.

Her comm. gave a soft buzz before coming alive. “Kelli just got in contact. We have twenty-one minutes before the block to mobile signals goes down, and probably about fifteen before the police realize that they don't actually have a man over on this side of the town. It'll probably be a while longer before they realize we were even here.” Aaron Hill informed her.

“Thank you.” John replied, scanning the remaining politicians. She made eye contact with Dugan and Bill, and they nodded, Bill setting down his gun to pull out the zip ties and gaffer tape from his pack. John fixed her gun on the men again. “We can wrap up in about fifteen minutes. How is your side coming along?”

“Just fine, Captain.” Jack Landon said, sounding huffy. “We managed to find their central computer. They're idiots. Everything is hooked up through it. We're scrambling it right now. They won't know what hit them.”

John felt her lip twitch as she glared at one politician in particular, feeling as if she were missing something. “Good. The slaves?”

“Gathering their things and their families.” Replied Aaron. “We should be ready to go in about ten minutes.”

“Good. Keep me updated.” Watson commanded, eyes following as Bill gaffer-tapped the ties on an older man that wheezed angrily at him. Bill sent her an amused look, and she found she couldn't hold back a light chuckle.

“You think this is funny, do you?” Scowled one politician that was tied.

“Seeing you all finally on the other side of the property line?” John asked, watching as his eyes bugged out of his head. “Oh, yes. Very funny.”

“Now, listen here.” The man started. “Our economy-”

“Blah, blah, blah.” John replied. “Sweden gave up slavery nearly thirty years ago, and their economy didn't collapse. In fact, they're rather well to do at the mo. And what can we say for the UK right now?”

The man turned red as a beet, and John found that she didn't care enough to listen to him say the exact same thing over and over again. All it ever came down to was money, money, _money._ “Now-”

“Hey, Bill?” She called. Immediately, he was by her side. She blinked. “Everyone done?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He replied, eyes locked on the geezer in front of her. She noted that his gun was at the ready, too.

“Do you mind if I borrow some gaffer tape?” Bill blinked in surprise before a grin spread across his lips. He tossed it to her, and she caught it on the muzzle of her gun, took off a piece, and stuck it over the mouthy man's hole. “Good. That makes everything better.”

Dugan called from the front of the room. “The video call is here.”

John smiled. “Right on time. Masks, boys.”

As Dugan and Bill pulled on their face masks (Bill's of a lion's and Dugan's of a Zebra), John set herself in front of the tele (and a rather large, expensive one it was at that). She holstered her gun, blue eyes flashing darkly. “Answer the call.”

Bill answered the call using one of the laptops (obviously not fried-yet. John had faith in her boys). As one of the most influential people in Britain (very possibly the single most influential) appeared on the screen, she smiled her best diplomatic smile. “Ah, Mycroft Holmes. Right on time.”

* * *

_The first week was horrible. The terrorists didn't do anything truly specific to her, but John was kept in a dark cell and given food irregularly as well as kept away from any human interaction. The only interaction she got was with the rats when she fed them her crumbs. Her eyes would wander the metal door and try to imagine the face that belonged with the gloved hand that would slide food underneath the doorway. In the end, though, all she saw was his shadowy fingers._

_She was alone. She was in the dark. She didn't know what to do._

Don't give up now, Watson. _She would think to herself._ You were a Captain.

_But she didn't feel like a Captain, trapped in a dark room with the rats and the ants._

_Then one day during week two (she didn't count-it would only drive her mad), she heard someone hissing and clawing at her door desperately. She must've looked surprised when light (it was brighter than she remembered) spilled forth around an angel._

_“I'll kill him for this.” He exclaimed, dropping down to smooth his hands over everything-her face, her hair, her arms, her clothes, her bandages, her legs, her back-_

_John stayed still, blue eyes struggling with the light. She didn't even twitch, eyes wide and focused. “Bill?”_

* * *

Mycroft's assistant looked up from her mobile in surprise, eyes slightly narrowed. Glad she couldn't be seen from the screen, she examined the woman on the other end. She was clearly military, or at least, she used to be. Her hair was cut into an almost masculine style around her face, blond locks complementing deep blue eyes. She wore a black leather pair of pants and a top of similar material. She wore long gloves up her hands made of the same black leather with their ties wrapped in neat bows (double-knotted as not to come undone). The blond also had three holsters for guns. The assistant had no doubt the woman was hiding other dangerous weapons as well. However, the most off-putting thing was the smeared blood smeared down the side of her face and dripping from her lips.

She knew who this woman was. Everyone did.

This was the face of terror. The Queen. The Captain. Joan of ARC.

John H. Watson.

“Ah, Mycroft Holmes.” The piranha barred her fangs. “Right on time.”

“John Watson.” The man said, already past his recovery period. Immediately, Anthea sent a message to the necessary officials. “I've been expecting a visit at some point, though I do admit I didn't expect you to kidnap nearly thirty of my colleagues.”

“Colleagues? Really? And here I thought you held a minor position in the British government.” She purred. “Ah, pooh. I guess my information is wrong.”

To his credit, Mycroft didn't even shift in discomfort at the obvious baiting. Instead, he smoothed down his suit jacket, looking up at the international terrorist. He didn't speak, and neither did she. It seemed as though it were a silent battle to see who would break first.

However, the assistant to the British government knew only too well that it wasn't. It wasn't about who broke first or sizing one another up; They were deliberating and choosing strategy silently and deliberately based on their opponent's every movement.

Finally, the Captain sat backward slightly, slender eyebrows drawing her face into a clearly straight-forward, critical (though not derogatory) stare. It was obvious that she had decided the politician before her to be not only on equal ground but also worthy of honesty. “We need you.”

Mycroft rose an eyebrow.

“We have plenty of men, Mr. Holmes.” She began, blue eyes vibrant but dulled in a sad way. “However, a man can be killed with a click.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis. Anthea felt her hands grow cold at the blankness on her face. “We need someone else who can help us protect our men.”

Someone else implied they had someone already.

“And why, daresay, would you want me?” Mycroft questioned.

“Make no mistake, Mr. Holmes. If you refuse us, we will not approach you again with this offer. If necessary, we can do this without you, but your resources are invaluable, and your work in the past has impressed us.” John Watson stated coolly. “We wish for you to be a part of ARM. We need people like you in our lineup.”

Mycroft rose his chin, obviously considering.

His assistant did not judge him for doing so. He was her boss, and as such, she didn't wish to examine his mind too closely. There was something off-putting about someone so brilliant that they could see decades results from a bill that hadn't even been passed. His mind was a tool that poor, stupid creatures like the rest of humanity could not imagine being able to use. If he decided to take up the woman's offer, then his assistant felt perfectly satisfied leaning back and watching Mycroft build it up or burn it to the ground. 

“What would you ask of me?” He asked, eyes calculating.

“First, to derail the Collar Assessment Bill.” She replied without pause. “Secondly, to decide whether or not you want to have a seat on our board of directors. If so, you would be gladly accepted into ARM.”

Mycroft pursed his lips before sitting back, threading his fingers together under his chin. “What makes you think I would wish to hold with a known terrorist group?”

John's eyes twinkled like diamond. It was obvious that she had expected such an answer. After all, one could not say that they supported a terrorist group in front of their colleagues, no matter how far below them they might be. “You have twenty-four days to make your decision. Goodbye, Mr. Holmes.”

“Miss Watson.” Mycroft nodded. As the screen went dark, he turned to look at his assistant, a serious look in his eyes.

“Sir?” She asked, awaiting his order.

“Contact my brother.” Mycroft commanded. “When he takes the case, he will have two weeks to capture the Angel of Abolition and one more week to find out her plan.”

“Her plan?” Questioned his assistant.

“Yes.” Mycroft turned back away, a sly smile sliding to his face. “I have a feeling he will not be bored at all.”

“Yes, sir.” His assistant murmured, bowing her head before she pulled out her mobile.

* * *

**Mycroft has a case for you. -A**

**Dull. -SH**

**Tell him to go do some legwork for once. It might help regulate his weight. -SH**

**You'll want this case. -A**

**Fine. Tomorrow. -SH**

**Two hours. -A**

 


End file.
